


énouement

by cinnamonfox



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonfox/pseuds/cinnamonfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>n. the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world—who your baby sister would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you who had volunteered to stay behind, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, still eagerly awaiting news from the front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	énouement

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: police brutality mention, alcohol use, implied self-hatred/destruction

_Read 9:12 AM_

The words stung into your eyes before you locked your phone and covered it with the black screen.

It was loud. You hated the cafeteria almost as much as you hated the people in it. It’s cliche, and such a typical teenager thing to feel. But it was true. Being here made you feel sick to your stomach. Like every lunch period you have to bear through could make you vomit incessantly and have the virus eat through your nervous system until you passed out just from near exhaustion. You’re pretty sure none of that really makes any sense, but you feel it anyway.

The noise of people talking, from every direction. Table after table of friend groups in their own conversations, all talking over each other. It was like a competition to see who could yell their entire conversations the loudest, but no one ever won. It just continued, and it made your skin crawl.

Sure, you had your own friends group. They sat in the same spot every day, day in and day out. None of them really knew why, especially since they all hated it in the cafeteria too. But it was routine, and what everyone else did. So no one questioned it.

On days that get really bad, you’re almost sure you can hear every single person’s chewing as well. Or you look around the room and see food being eaten and you observe them almost like animals. Teenagers were savage, yet you were stuck as one.

Don’t get the wrong idea though, you know yourself well enough and, Clarke Griffin is not as cynical and stereotypical as she makes herself out to be in her thoughts. At least that’s what you tell youself. Daily.

 

You focus yourself back into conversation. Octavia is going on about some college boy who’s doing an assistant teachers job in her Health studies class. Apparently he’s large and dreamy, like a guy on one of those harlequin novels you see at gas stations. Harper and Monty seem to be listening to her every word, grabbed in like they’re watching a cliffhanger film and being dragged along on to every detailed description. Monroe and Miller looked dazed by the conversation topic, both daydreaming while picking at the food sat in front of them. Jasper and Raven however, were totally in their own world. They sat on the other side of you, nearly yelling over some Tech homework they both had to do and were going over their answers. From what you could grasp, most of their answers matched up, so you weren’t sure why they were yelling.

Then there’s you. Sat in the middle of the group like you usually are. Today your mom had packed you some of her signature pasta salad, which is usually a rare occurrence with her work schedule making it hard for her to cook as much as she used to. On any other day you would have gobbled down the salad in a few minutes, making sure to savour it and pray that there was leftovers for after school. Today was different though.

Instinctively, you unlocked your phone again.

 

_Read  9:12 AM_

You snapped it back to locked, wiping at your brow, and down your left eye. With a sigh you go to pick up your fork again. This time you pushed the noodles around in your glass container a bit, picking at the tomatoes and olives. You get lost for a few seconds while staring at the salad, before you snap up and pop a noodle in your mouth.

You’re going to try. Even though it will be hard, you’re going to do it. Because that’s what she would want for you.

So you settle yourself on an elbow, continuing to munch on the salad, and begin paying actual attention to the story Octavia is telling.

 

“He even chose to sit at my table so we would be alone together!”

“O, that’s because you’re the only person in the class who sits alone.”

“Hey don’t kill my vibe Monty, I can dream can’t I?!”

You giggle at that. Octavia always makes you smile. You think about bringing up that anything between her and the assistant teacher would be illegal, but you decide not to. You know Octavia knows that, she’s just too much a dreamer to let it spoil her spirit.

“Anyway, he said next class that he’s going to help me on my assignment.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

“Spring, we’re thinking a May reception. One where we can be outside but I won’t be sweating in my dress, but the flowers will still be in bloom. Don’t worry, you’ll be one of my bride’s maids Harper.”

Even Miller smiled at that.

 

After that, lunch didn’t end so bad. You ended up laughing and smiling and finishing your salad, which was more than you had originally expected to happen. Raven and Jasper ended up joining their group conversation after calming down from their heated discussion over mechanics, just to both openly laugh until tears poured from their eyes at a story Monty told about his chemistry class where a boy named Atom (ironic huh?) mixed his chemicals wrong and caused a (small) fire. According to Monty, Atom scared himself so bad he peed his pants.

It wasn’t until they started packing their bags to leave for class, that you were reminded of the dark cloud over your head.

“Hey Clarke, wait up!” Raven clumsily slipped her books into her bag to catch up to you at the doors of the cafeteria, “what’s the rush for Lit class?”

You didn’t say anything back, just opened the door for her and gave her a smile.

“Alrighty then,” Raven got a better grip on her bag, putting it over her shoulder and zipping it up before turning back to you. “You seemed kinda out of it at the table, everything okay?”

Curse Raven, honestly. As much as you think she’s caught up in her own world talking about her tech class or making sassy comments (or complimenting herself somehow), she’s the most observant person you know. While she was yelling at Jasper about the mechanics of a car engine, somehow she had still noticed that you were off more than usual, even when you don’t notice it yourself.

“Uh, I don’t really know…” you start to think about it. The thing that’s been running around your brain all day and making you feel like you’re on the edge on a cliff and about to fall at any second. The feeling that makes you think it’s not worth it; your least favourite feeling.

“Well hey, how about me and O come over tonight, we can order pizza and eat junk food and marathon Lord of the Rings,” you feel Raven grab your hand and squeeze it. It’s close to the bell and your classes are on opposite sides of the building. “Perfect! We will be there at 7!”

Before you could even answer, she bounced off down the hallway after Jasper. You watch her punch him in the arm when she catches up, and you smile.

It’s not like you were going to say no to her request, how could anyone say no to a Lord of the Rings marathon, really? But as soon as you watched her turn the corner at the end of the hallway, your smile fades.

You unlock your phone.

 

_Read 9:12 AM_

You were going to be late for Lit class, again. Part of you wished you cared more about being late, but it rolled off your shoulders like most things did. You remind yourself again

 

_You’re not sad, you’re just committed._

 

Reassurance isn’t helping, so instead you go with self-pity. And as you make your way to the third floor for your Lit class you feel it creeping up you again.

 

_Maybe it’s not worth it._

  


 

* * *

 

 

The board room was silent. It stung your ears and you looked down at the lined sheet of paper on top of the notepad resting in your arms. It had various notes scribbled down, things with stars beside it to make sure you know in the future it was a particularly important fact. You rolled the pen over a few lines and words, making them bolder. It made you shiver, because no one was saying anything and the silence ate you up like a dog treat.

Anything was better than watching the face of your boss, drawn to a stopping point in this case. You can’t bear it, and you know that Anya can’t bear it even more. You didn’t want to see her face because you didn’t know if it was going to be filled with anger or sadness or something combined of the two that’s even worse. Something that’s heartbreaking to see, and the weakness made you scared.

You do it anyway. You look up.

She’s still staring at the casebook open in front of her. Her eyes were clouded with the similar dark tones you had seen before and you had been right, it did break your heart. The client wasn’t here for this meeting, which was probably a good thing at this point. You didn’t want to be there to see Anya break the news to them.

“Lexa, go call Ms. Samuel to tell her to schedule an appointment with me tomorrow,” the informal addressing was odd in the office, usually it’s Ms. Woods or Alexandria but you shrug it off because you know Anya is in no mood to mess around. Not in this situation.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You may go home after you’re done, we’re done here today.”

Before you turned to leave, you caught Anya’s eye. It was quick, but you felt it. The anguish.

Your thick soled business shoes clicked on the tiled floor towards your desk. It was empty in the office. No more appointments for the day, everyone else had gone home.

The silence still hurt.

 

Your desk wasn’t big. It was practically falling apart on the legs, kept up but a stack of old case files that Anya had apparently been meaning to burn. When you had asked why she would ever burn old case files, the information could be important one day, she told you it comforted her. Since then, Anya had been able to surprise you almost every day.

The phone call was quick, just left a message. You turn to your things and put them in your bag. Your notebook, your laptop, your clipbook, your textbook.

Your phone catches your eye.

 

_Fuck._

 

You turned it on, and open your messages. Nothing new, just the same message sat there. The one you had given no reply to. The one that you dreaded going back to because it meant facing your mistakes. It meant not having an answer and it meant guilt.

Instead, you locked it, slid it into your pocket, turned the lamp on your desk off, and headed for the door.

The silence still hung in the air, and it reminded you of the one thing that never got off your back.

  
You’re alone.

 

* * *

 

 

You felt better, much better. Or at least you convinced yourself of it enough for the time being. Apparently all you had needed was pizza, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and being cuddled by your two best friends. The three of you had stuffed your room with bulk candy, two pizzas, and a large bottle of coke that you spiked with the little bit of rum you had left over from a party a few weeks ago.

Slightly buzzed, and tearing up over Samwise Gangee almost drowning for Frodo, you snuggle deeper into the blankets you have piled on top of you. You can feel Octavia holding in her sniffles by ever so lightly shaking. You don’t say anything, like teasing her, mostly because you’re also caught up in emotions, but she would probably punch you so hard you wouldn’t be able to feel your arm for days. Instead, you just settle on taking her hand in a place that Raven wouldn’t be able to see. She holds in hard in return.

 

If you were honest, you would never have predicted the outcome of your best friends being Octavia Blake and Raven Reyes in a million years, but some how it had happened. People at school even found it weird when you all started hanging out, but soon it became common knowledge to everyone that you were inseparable.

You met Raven in freshmen year. You had just come from junior high as being pretty fluid in your friend groups, but as soon as high school rolled around, cliques started becoming more solid and exclusive. You dabbled in different groups, and after cheerleader tryouts was dragged to a what was your first party. You may have had too much to drink considering it was your first time, and ended up on a couch with a guy who had been flirting with you since you walked through the door. What could be the harm in that? You didn’t think there was any. So you did it again at the next party, and the next. He would take your hand and whisper in your ear to tell you how pretty you were. It never went farther than just making out, some groping maybe, but nothing you didn’t thoroughly enjoy.

Until one day at school, with a raging hangover and when a fiery dark-haired girl shoving you against your locker, you realized that it wasn’t such a good idea. After several bouts of aggressive talk, you soon find out that she’s the boy’s (who was named Finn, which you also didn’t know) girlfriend. After taking her to the bathroom to calm down and let you explain yourself (which was also the first time you skipped class), you both come to the conclusion that Finn is, and quote “a fuckboy that needed to be stopped”.

This lead to the two of you spending a week on a plan to get back at him. And with Raven’s tech knowledge, it wasn’t hard. A situation on a football field involving his lost clothes, liquid glue, and some feathers. Since then, Raven hasn’t left your side; partners in crime.

 

The memories made your stomach rise with a lightness. Thinking about Finn’s reaction, and the whole football team on the ground laughing at him etched into your brain. Freshmen year was bearable thanks to Raven, but you didn’t become complete until Octavia came around.

 

The Griffins and the Blakes had lived as next door neighbours since before you had even been born. Abby Griffin and Mrs. Blake were your typical suburban moms, redoing their backyards, making sandwiches for the all the neighbourhood kids, taking yoga classes together. Hence, you grew up with Octavia, in a way. You played together with the other neighbourhood kids of all ages, like Wells and little Charlotte and even Bellamy, Octavia’s older brother. You would deny it in front of anyone, but as a kid you had a giant crush on Bellamy. He was older and so mature and had these cute freckles that spotted his nose. He reminded you of a much younger and much more good looking Jeff Goldblum.

Once everyone started growing up though, they stopped playing outside and age became a gap that seemed as deep as trenches. Octavia became the little Blake girl who laughed too loud and didn’t seem to fit in at junior high. She got snooty and talked back, and she annoyed you whenever you saw her outside by your houses. Even Abby had asked you to call her up and hang out, and maybe you would have liked her if you actually done it, but when you’re newly turned 14 and think that hanging out with a 12 year old who cared more about her hair than a friend, you didn’t call her.

It wasn’t until she got to high school that you became friends, but not at first. Octavia, still being Octavia, didn’t really have friends. She was the freshman that wore dresses that cut too short for dress code and makeup that was smudged across her eyes. She tried too hard and got nothing in return.

One day, out of nowhere and the first time in years, she spoke to you. Not because she was being polite as you both were in your front yards, but like she had something to say. She had approached you and Raven at lunch one day, explaining that she had heard about the prank you had pulled on Finn the previous year. Being a fan of the work, she asked for your help. Apparently some girls who she thought were her friends, had stranded her downtown with a bill of all their meals from a dinner as a joke. Raven had been hesitant at first, but as soon as Octavia offered us money in return, we were on it.

So, for the next few lunch breaks, they had schemed up another prank. Octavia sat with us too, helping with the plans, and after the first few days having to put up with her quirks and burning spunk, both you and Raven actually enjoyed her company.

Octavia was funny, and passionate, and knew exactly what she wanted. Sure, her ego was (and is) almost as big as Raven’s, and their spitfire personality could burn houses to the ground as competition, but soon they settled into a balance. In a weird way, Octavia felt like their child, a mix of both of them yet very individual.

The prank went off without a hitch. The girls definitely weren’t expecting the laxatives in their drinks, especially after getting in trouble for being late for class after getting a flat tire and not being allowed to go use the restroom. It had topped Finn, and was definitely worth the week’s detention where the three of you had became solidified as a trio.

They denied Octavia’s money in the end, told her to use it to buy them pizza at their next sleepover, the three of them. Octavia was still too loud, and sometimes still worried too much about what people thought, but that didn’t matter. Because she was Octavia. She still wears dresses that are cut too short for dress code, but instead now her eyeliner was winged sharp enough to stab a boy if she needed to.

No one messed with them after that.

Their group became larger with Monty and Jasper, then Monroe and Harper, and lastly Miller (who mostly just joined because he started dating Monty, but he loves us all now even if he hates to admit it). But the trio remains intact, and no matter what crazy stuff any of them do or go through, the other ones put up with it. Even if it means you might get punched by one of them.

 

So there they were, snuggled on your bed 3 years later and all still crying over the same scenes of the movies they marathoned almost every weekend. They made you feel okay, and safe, and like nothing could go wrong.

But it wasn’t okay, and things did go wrong. And as much as you can convince yourself that the movie in front of you is taking your mind off things, you know the tears that are slowly making their way down your cheeks aren’t products of fictional events. But very real events.

You know you’re over reacting, and you know you’re just being the immature teenager, you know you are. But you want to scream and punch through your wall and you wished the feeling of tears on your cheeks was really the feeling of blood instead. Because at least then you would know you’re still real.

 

The credits started to roll. No one moved for a minute or two, letting them reach the edge of the screen while they all pulled themselves together in their own silence.

Raven was the one to move first. She sat up and took her ponytail out of its tie, took a sip of her drink and turn to you and Octavia.

“Part 2? Or do we take a break?” Sometimes when they would watch the trilogy, since it was the extended editions and very long, they took breaks in between the movies to talk or go outside or do something else before they continued. It all depended on their moods.

“I vote to continue, I’m too tired for anything else,” O spoke first after glancing at you and waiting. Raven nodded.

“Consensus?” They both looked at you expectantly, and you nodded with a small grin. You don’t think at this point you can say anything out loud, just let them put in the movies and sit in silence some more.

“Okay..” Raven moved to start the movie, but stopped before she put it on.

“Look, I know tonight was supposed to just make you feel better, but that’s a little hard to do when we don’t know what’s going on.”

Your stomach dropped, you knew it was going to happen. You can avoid it all you want, but they’re always going to want you to talk. As much as you dread it, you know it’s for the best and it will make you feel better. They deserve to know anyway.

You hate it though.

You hate it because you’re the one who is supposed to be strong. You’re the one who notices Raven’s small tells that let you know she’s having a bad day or Octavia’s bursts of rage so you know when to give her space. You know how to take care of your friends and make sure they feel and know how special they are. You’re not supposed to be the weak one. But you are in this moment, and you hate it.

 

You sit up, and open your mouth to talk.

But you stop. The words that you weren’t sure you could form got stuck in your throat and instead fall into a choke. Octavia grabs your arm from beside you, and everything collapses. It rushes over you like a soak bucket at a water park, and you can barely feel Octavia pulling you to her chest and her hands in your hair.

“It’s Lexa,” you can barely breathe the words out, but they come eventually, “I think she’s done with me.”

  
You don’t end up finishing the trilogy. The rest of the night included talking, and crying, and lots more donuts stuffed in your mouth. It included understanding, and love, and hopelessness, and maybe a little glimmer of okay.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not easy. None of this way, and you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t your fault. Even just reminding yourself wasn’t easy, yet you had to do it. If you didn’t do it, you weren’t sure what would happen.

You were stranded, alone in a land that you were lost and pushed into. A place that was unfamiliar, not just the streets and the buildings and the people, but the apartment you lived in didn’t even feel like your home.

It was small, just barely two rooms because you slept on what you called your couch as well as your bed. There was no TV, no dining room table, no pictures of your life to remind you of memories from the past. Just your bed, a small table that supported your laptop and whatever dish you used to eat off of that day, a fridge, and a small wardrobe half empty of various business clothes that were suitable to wear and a couple T-shirts and shorts to wear to bed. It wasn’t much, but you lived there. For the time being at least.

Sometimes, when you’re tired after a long day in the office and you can’t sleep and there was hardly anything to eat for dinner, you stare around the flat and imagine what could be there. What you could have one day and how much it would be home, instead of the dump you’re stuck in now.

 

There would be artwork lining the walls. All of it you would have it framed delicately and arranged in the perfect positions and spots, so you could look at her amazing talent every day of your life.

There would be a giant couch, lined with fluffy pillow and throw blankets. Something you could sink into and feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. Where you could have movie marathons like you knew she loved.

Scattered along the furniture will be frames full of photos. Trips you will go on, people you love, memories you will never forget with her.

The kitchen would be stocked to the brim. The counter space large and maybe even a small island to eat at on lazy mornings in your underwear. The food would be just enough to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Everything from the spice rack to your pots and pan collection would be the best you could get.

You would have a table to host dinners with friends at. A nice dark mahogany wood that came with beautiful chairs, lined with candles. It could expand for all of her friends and family, and everyone would be begging to be invited. Also perfect for date nights.

Your bathroom would have a large tub, deep and set with massage jets and bath bombs. Tiling splayed along the walls to match the towels and soap and toothbrush holder.

Nothing will be as perfect and dream worthy as your bedroom will be though. The bed would be king sized, not that you would need that much space because she would never leave your arms. Covered in pillows and soft fleece blankets, and a duvet that could compare to the softness of a cloud.

It would be home.

But you’re stuck here, sleeping on your couch, alone. No fancy kitchen or artwork or bedroom, just you. And sometimes the dream of that house seems so impossible, especially now.

Ignoring her wasn’t your plan. You hated that you were doing it more than anything. But in your head you weren’t ignoring her, she was all you thought of. And that’s exactly why that message was still sitting on your phone, no reply typed by you. Because it terrified you, more than you had ever felt in your life. More than when you heard your parents screaming at each other and hiding under your bed as a child. More than when the entire high school found out you were gay and humiliated you for weeks. More than when you were stuck in the passenger seat of the car that had violently tumbled off the road, beside your first love who wouldn’t wake up.

Fear is your worst enemy. It creeps up on you like the boogeyman each night before you slept and each day when you wake. It reminds you of all the things that could go wrong and all the things you could screw up; will screw up.

Instead of answering, you open your photo gallery. You flip through screenshots and pictures she had sent you. Her bright eyes and golden hair, it looked so real like you could reach out and touch it. But you couldn’t, and you knew she was probably on the other end of that message, tearing herself up for your own mistakes.

Your front door swings open and you snap your head up. You’re met with the sight of Anya, hair down and arms full with a bags of Chinese takeout and a bottle of Jack; your usual. Neither of you say anything, just looking back at the other. You both know the shitty day the other had and you sit in the understanding for a moment before Anya shrugs and offers the bottle towards you. Taking it, she settles herself in beside you and indulges in the takeout.

Having your only friend be your boss seems strange to you sometimes, but at this point you hardly care. Anya was young, and although a thoroughly respected civil rights lawyer, she still knew how to kick back and have a good time, probably better than you did. Within your first week of your internship at her firm, she had taken you under her wing and made you feel comfortable enough to open up. She told you all about her own past and present problems, how she got to where she was, and joked along the way. You did your part, told her about your parents, and Costia, and your road to wanting to be a civil rights lawyer like her. You told her about Clarke and she even got to meet her over Skype a couple times. It stayed strictly professional at work, but you sought out a comfort in having her around.

Having your boss as your only friend is strange, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. She has been where you are, and has no judgement. She took you for what you were and nothing else. Your relationship was built on respect and understanding, and you cherished that.

You knew she could tell something was wrong with your mood, and it wasn’t just the horrible day they had for their current case. Anya had this weird way of reading you and making it obvious she knew. She never asked you about it though, she would always wait patiently for you to speak up first.

“I think I screwed it up,” you weren’t really sure how to start, so that was enough to say before you took a gulp of the spiced alcohol that burned smoothly down your throat.

“You say that at least once a week, be more specific,” Anya grabbed the bottle from your hand and took a gulp herself.

You stop to think for a second. Honestly, it isn’t that hard to explain. So you pull out your phone and show her the texts.

“Yikes.”

She takes a gulp from the bottle again, and goes to eat more of the fried rice from the box in front of her. You wait, expecting more words to be said. Usually Anya is quite the opinionated person, she gives you 10 minute rants about when you use your toothbrush wrong. But she didn’t say anything else, just stared down at her food and kept eating.

“That’s it? Yikes?” Normally, challenging her wasn’t the best idea. But you’re feeling confident from the tingling in your stomach and the buzz in your brain, so you go for it.

Anya turns to you, her brows furrowed and still in the midst of chewing her last bite. She stared at you until her swallowed, and still silence.

“I’m not here to solve all your problems for you Lexa, you did screw up and you need to fix it.” It wasn’t particularly angry, her tone. But it still struck you in an odd way, making your head drop to hang between your shoulders. “She told you she feels like a burden and that you’re better off without her, and you left her high and dry; didn’t answer,” hearing the words out loud stung even more, hitting your nerves like smashing at piano keys. “Call her, before you screw it up even more.”

Like usual, she was right. You winced at the fire streaming down your throat again, and placed the bottle down. You stink of whiskey and chicken, and you pick your phone up.

“Hold up cowgirl, you’re not calling her now,” Anya snatches the phone from your hand and hides it in her pocket.

“Hey why not?” you reach over, trying to pull it out but Anya leaps up and moves away from you. You feel anger, she wanted you to call her and now she is hiding your phone. You need to call her, you miss her voice like hell and need to hear it just as much as you need the sun on your face each day. Fuck, you miss her so much.

“You’re not sober, and friends don’t let friends dial drunk.”

Again, she was right. You were in no state to make a proper apology and fix this thing you broke. The heat on your skin makes your anger still spark on the edges but you understand and nod at her. She settles back beside you and picks up her fried rice again, scooping it into her mouth and going back to her silence.

You follow suit, leaning back into the couch and holding your box of stir fry on your lap. The hot smell wafts into your nose leaving you aching to stuff it all in your mouth, but all you can think about is Clarke.

Her sweet voice and her angelic laugh. Seeing her eyes light up and hearing her talk about art or science or both. Listening to her breathe and just sitting in the sound of being next to each other while doing your separate work but still being beside the other through a camera. It was the best you got, but it was enough.

You did end up finishing your stir fry, and the rest of the chicken balls once Anya had dozed off on the couch. You didn’t want to wake her, not yet at least because this was your chance.

Carefully, reaching around her body you pull out your phone. Anya flinches slightly and you freeze, but as soon as you see her breath steady and her sleep remaining unchanged, you take the rest of it out of her pocket and rush to the bathroom. The number types itself out like a pattern that has become as second nature as blinking to you. Everything in you prays that she will pick up, it’s late and she might be asleep or even ignore it. The ringing goes on for what feels like an eternity and you almost lose hope.

“Hello?”

“You’re not a burden.”

Silence. You had rushed the words out so fast you didn’t even think about it. Your heart pounded so hard you could hear it in your ears, and maybe you should say something else but she beats you to it.

“Lexa I….”

“I’m sorry Clarke.”

Silence again. You really need to stop answering so fast.

“For everything. I screwed up so bad and I don’t know how to make it better, but it’s so late and I needed to hear your voice and tell you how sorry I am.”

The effects of the alcohol were still rushing around your brain and your words stumbled out like running water, unstoppable. But this time you waited for her to say something back.

 

“I needed to hear your voice too.”

You felt relief pour through your bones.

“You’re all I think about, ever. You are aware how bad I am with feelings, I just got scared.”

You surprise even yourself with how open you are being. Usually Clarke has to pry to get you to speak so personally, but you were desperate at this point.

“I know how hard that is for you…”

“I understand that ignoring you was not the answer, but please know how sorry I am for that.”

Her breath is steady on the line, and you match it with your own. In sync even this far away from each other.

“You can’t do that again.”

“I know, I promise I won’t.”

“Okay.”

You both listen to the other’s breath for a minute, the heavy feeling in your chest has been lifted and you feel celestial. You then laugh.

“What’s so funny?” She was lightly laughing at your sudden reaction, which was a wonderful noise.

“It’s just, Anya took my phone so I wouldn’t call you drunk. I had to steal it from her pocket after she fell asleep, now I’m hiding in my own bathroom.”

She laughed fully now.

“That’s ironic.”

“Why?”

“I’m hiding in my own bathroom as well. Octavia and Raven are currently snuggling asleep in my bed, I was scared when my phone went off it would wake them up so I sprinted in here.”

You could only imagine Clarke’s reaction when she got a phone call this late, and the state she was in. Half asleep and suddenly panicking because you know for a fact her ringtone is the Buffy theme song, and was extremely loud. Running off in her fluffy slippers and Adventure Time T-shirt she sleeps in.

But then it dawns on you that Octavia and Raven were probably there to comfort her, like they always did when one of them was having a bad day. Guilt seeped into your heart again and makes you feel sick.

“Isn’t it like 3 AM there?”

Clarke spoke up again and her voice brought you back to reality. You checked your phone for a second, and noticed she was right. The roughness in the sound of her voice reminded you how late it was where Clarke was too.

“You’re right.”

“Maybe we should both go to sleep then.”

 

You didn’t want to leave her, you knew that once you did you would instantly ache to hear her again. That feeling at the end of every phone call and Skype chat that ate you up crept through your skin and you could sense that Clarke was experiencing the same thing.

“Yeah… We probably should.”

It hurt. This part always hurt. But at least everything was okay now, you could go to sleep knowing that Clarke is still there, not hating you. At least you had that.

“Goodnight.”

“Sleep tight princess.”

 

She giggled, she loved being called princess when it was just them.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You waited before you pressed the end call button. A few seconds to make sure it was the end and stared at the red button. You didn’t hear the receiver on the other line, so you knew she was doing the same thing. You flinched, before quickly pressing it. Your home screen appeared and you saw her blue eyes again, staring back at you. Your lips inched up at the side of your mouth.

When you returned to the living room, to your surprise Anya was awake. She sat up, chewing on a fortune cookie and reading the tiny paper that had come from it.

“Look who it is,” she looked up at you, noticing your presence and smirked, “how did it go?”

“Good.” You tried to stay monotone, it was late and you were not in the right mind to get into it with her yet. But she grinned and raised her eyebrows and you couldn’t help but bursting in relief, letting a smile spread across your face.

“Get it girl.” Anya got to her feet, gathering the empty takeout boxes and throwing them in the trash, “time for me to leave though, I have to wake up early to meet with our client tomorrow.” Lexa felt the mood drop at that, and she watched Anya put her shoes on. “And don’t worry, I called a cab.”

She gave you a relaxed salute and you returned it before she closed the door as she left you.

  
Alone, again.  

* * *

 

 

It’s faint, and for a moment you aren’t sure if it’s part of you imagination or not. You could still be dreaming.

But reality comes back into focus, and you recognize it as your phone vibrating. Of course it’s your phone, what else would it be? Seconds later, your nerves are on edge and your sleepy, half consciousness is reaching frantically to turn it off.

Your alarm doesn’t vibrate. The low sunlight against your walls catches your attention; it’s early.

Your eyes adjust to the bright screen and the letter are blurry for more than just a couple seconds. Rubbing your eyes, it slowly comes into sight.

 

**Lexa**

**_Good morning princess ❤_ **

 

You reread it until the words become completely legible in your sight. It burns into your skull and your heart flips to your throat.

Everything was okay. You two are okay.

 

It’s like the dark cloud is blown away and the weight pressing down on your torso is released. You can breathe.

Reaching back over, you put your phone down. It’s not time to get up for school yet, so you will take the chance to fit in more sleep. Your alarm is still set and the rest of the world is still asleep. You grab a bunch of your blankets and pull them to your face, gripping them in a tight hug. You smile to yourself and drift back to sleep easily and lightly.

 

* * *

 

 

**Clarke**

_**Have a good day sunshine! ♥** _

 

 

It was the only solace you found that day. The short text that wished you well, and made your heart twist each time you reread it.

Because today wasn’t a good day. Today you held a sobbing client whose 16 year old son’s murder won’t be given justice. Shot and killed and apparently that’s not enough evidence for a cop who ‘felt threatened’.

 

You wanted to vomit, and your head spun from the dizziness. But you were supposed to be a professional, so you held her with a solemn face and repetitively whispering soft words into her hair.

Anya had left the room by making up an excuse of having to get the clients files, but really you knew she couldn’t deal with a loss like this. Anya knew her limits, but sometimes she couldn’t help but get attached to certain cases. This one in particular had dug deep with her. She had never gotten into too much detail with you, but her own personal experiences with police brutality were some of the main reasons she had gotten into civil rights in the first place. You had never heard the full story, but her brother was a victim when she was very young. Every time it had made it’s way into one of their conversations, she would get very distant and her mind would go somewhere else. You watched her, her eyes gone cloudy with thoughts.

And as much as you hated being the guinea pig left to hold this woman, it reminded you why you were here in the first place. To let things like this never happen with all the ability you can bring.

  
You weren’t alone this time, but the emptiness was still there.

 

* * *

 

 

“Long story short, the guy ended up needing a coronary artery bypass grafting. Nothing major, but it did eat up my time with the interns in the ER which I was looking forward to.”

Abby finished her story. Usually her stories about work had some sort of crazy twists and turns just like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, but today it was lacking. Which was too bad, you had been so excited to spend time with her that day, except it wasn’t until you realized that it had been off between you two for a while that making conversation might be hard.

Ever since her hours had increased at work, the two of you hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together. You grew distant, only being able to say a few words to each other a day, at best.

You were proud of her, and so very happy. She had been promoted to the chief of cardiothoracic surgery at Ark hospital, which she had been striving towards for the past 15 years. She deserved it more than anyone in the entire world, and seeing her in her element was so inspiring to you.

Abby had been hesitant to take the position. Less time at home and with you would take more of a toll now that it was just the two of you in the house.

Ever since your dad had passed away, she had been working to support an entire household, and be a mom to you. It broke your heart to see her like that, so stressed and overworked all of the time.

Since then, it had settled. You both fell into place of a sense of understanding. You were older now, and Abby didn’t need to take care of you all the time. But when the promotion came, she didn’t want to leave you even more.

Life wasn’t as simple as that though, so she took the job. You were more than happy for her to do it, but you catch yourself feeling sad about it sometimes. Your mom was, besides Octavia and Raven (obviously), your best friend. You didn’t hide anything from each other, and she knew exactly how to listen to you. You were lucky, a mom like that is only one in a million.

 

You had made a deal. Once every two weeks, you have to spend at least four hours together.

It wasn’t to force you on each other, not in a negative way at least. But you both knew that if you didn’t do it, you would forget. You were both so busy and caught up in your own lives all the time that if you didn’t do it, you would drift apart. And out of anyone in world, neither of them could survive without the other. So they needed to.

Today she had driven you out to the trail that you both loved so much. Even though it was just outside the city, not many people knew about it. But you liked it that way. It was their place and their secret.

Your dad loved it here.

He would drive you and Abby out there every weekend for a picnic. He would take your small hand and lead you down the path filled with roots and twigs and stones sticking every which way, making sure you didn’t trip. He would lay out the blanket by the river and take out the snacks he had prepared himself. Every time it was a surprise what he would bring.

Your favourite was his homemade chilli. Whenever he pulled out the massive thermos, you squeaked with joy and his face would light up.

 

The smell of it still wafted through the trees sometimes.

 

He would lift you on his shoulders and walk you down the trail, Abby’s hand in his. He would tell you about the different trees and animals that grew and lived there. He would make up stories about them and the adventures of the fairies that lived there as well. Their mushroom houses and their moss covered gardens where they grew their magic fairy dust. You never believed them, you had been a practical kid. But every time he would tell them, your heart would perk up and maybe, just maybe, they could be true.

 

You still watched for them. You would sit and look for the mushrooms, hoping to catch a glance of the fairies.

 

Now it was just you and Abby. You would walk in silence, just taking it in together.

You never brought a picnic though, instead you sat by the river and exchanged memories. By that point, you had gotten through every memory and every inch of your life with him. Retelling them over and over again, just to keep them alive.

 

So there you were, sat by the river. But this time you weren’t saying anything. You were just sitting, watching the current sweep by over the rocks. The two of you sat like that for what felt like hours before a word was spoken. It was Abby.

 

“How’s Lexa?”

 

Lexa. She was the only person who you had ever told any of this to. Any of the memories of this forest and the magic it held. You would explain the look of the great big trees that loomed over in shadows that made shapes out of fantasy novels. You explained to her the green ferns and rushes that lined the water’s edge that highlighted the beauty of it all. The rocks that lay there in all shapes and sizes, soft and rough, the colours put on each one like someone had delicately hand painted them. Lexa loved it, the stories and the memories. You loved watching her dreamy eyed expression and you wanted to know all of the beautiful ways she could only imagine it in her head.

She was the only person who you wanted to bring here, share it with. Let her feel the air and smell chilli, and search the mushrooms for fairies with. Tell her all the facts of the plants and trees, the history and feel it pour through her mind. See her take in the sights and feel her hand in yours. Lead her down the pathways and to the river. Share memories and tell her all about your dad that she never had the pleasure of physically meeting, but she would know him.

One day.

 

“She’s good I think.”

“You think?”

“We haven’t been able to talk a lot lately.”

“Oh.”

 

You ached to tell her more. You wanted to, needed to. But nothing came.

 

“I miss her,” Abby’s comment surprised you. She looked back at you, her eyes were soft, and looked at you with so much love, but also so much desperation. She wasn’t just talking about Lexa. She reached over and threaded your fingers. She was so warm on your cold hands

  
“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

The text is what made it worse. The warning, the heads up. It made anticipation string along with the simple dread that came with a phone call from your parents. But they’re formal, they tell you beforehand. As to almost announce their arrival but over a text message.

 

**Mother**

_**We will be phoning you later to discuss your plans to return for Thanksgiving, expect it around 8 PM.** _

__

It made your heart race and your body not be able to sit still. You paced the small space that made up your apartment back and forth for a half hour straight. You didn’t want to start doing anything in case they called early, so you settled with just waiting, which was not a good idea.

Once and a while you would notice your hands, they picked at the skin on your forearms subconsciously leaving red marks and etched skin. Each time you noticed you would stop, but then the anxiety would take hold again and you would lose consciousness. A vicious cycle, until your phone finally rang.

 

“Hello, Lexa Woods speaking.”

 

Formality was your mother’s favourite trait you expressed, so you fed off of it.

 

“Hello Alexandria, how’s your evening?”

Her tone showed no trace of interest, just politeness.

“Pleasant, and yours?”

“Busy, your father has a conference call meeting in a half hour so we have to make this quick.”

Like always.

“Your flight is scheduled for 6 AM on Friday, is that alright with you?”

Your last day of work before the long weekend was Thursday, you had planned on spending as much time with Clarke on Skype on the Friday as you could, but seems like that plan isn’t going through.

“Yes Mother, that sounds reasonable.”

“Good, Gustus will pick you up from the airport when your flight lands and our dinner is scheduled for Saturday evening, 6 PM.”

You memorized the time, making sure to remember the customs her family expected.

“Of course, Mother.”

“Very well, we will speak then. Goodbye.”

“Goodb-”

The dial tone sounded before you could finish the sentence. You stood still, no longer pacing.

 

The thought of going back to the large, soundless house you grew up in made you shiver. The ghosts would creep up on you and you already started to feel them whispering in your ears.

The large hallways lined with photos of ancestors in stoic positions and expressions, stiff and dead looking. The living areas with large elaborate rugs that are imported from countries around the world and artifacts set up on mantles topped with couches so hard that, even if you were allowed to, would be too hard to sit on. The worst was the echoing, the constant reminder that nothing else existed there except yourself.

You feel your phone vibrate in your still motionless hand. Looking down, you see a text.

 

**Clarke**

_**Wanna Skype call tonight?** _

You stared down at the message and waited for a minute before answering.

 

_**Really tired tonight, maybe tomorrow?** _

__

_Read 8:21 PM_

You watched the small dots of her typing, they disappeared and reappeared a few times.

 

**_Of course babe, sleep well!_ **

****

**_You too princess ♥_ **

_Read 8:23 PM_

 

You stared again for a minute, making sure it was the end before tossing your phone on the couch. You followed suit by throwing your own body on the cushions, burying your face in the pillow.

The numbness washed over you, being injected into your bones. The tug of your long braided hair still nagged on your scalp. It was loose after the day, but you could feel the pull of each hair it was made up of. You remembered when your mother would force you to wear your hair back each day as a child, getting Gustus to do the simple french braid and comb out your mane of tangles.

_‘It distracts from your face’_

_‘You will get it dirty’_

_‘Hair that curly gets in the way’_

_‘No one appreciates a mess like that’_

 

The reminders ring in your ears. It eats at your scalp and you reached back to tug out the tie on the end. Sitting up, you run your fingers through it until it lies large and curled down your back and shoulders.

Your eye catches the bottle of Jack that was still half empty from the other night with Anya. Without hesitation, you grab it and down a gulp. It is harsh and hits you instantly, reminding you that you hardly had any time to eat that day. You didn’t bother at this point though, taking another large sip.

Before long, it was nearly empty. Your mouth tingled was tinges of the alcohol burn, your throat on fire. It felt good, it felt alive.

 

Then you heard new whispers.

 

_‘It’s unique’_

_‘I can’t wait to play with it’_

_‘It’s beautiful’_

_‘You’re beautiful’_

 

Clarke’s voice forced itself in front of your older memories, filling your stomach with a warmth that wasn’t the alcohol. It was relaxing in a different way, not an artificial one. It reminded you of reality, but also of what one day holds.

Not of a cling to the swampy past but an open and loving future. One you saw in the cracks of the small apartment walls, the house you imagined each time you looked at the tiny couch you sat on each day.

 

You searched the mess of blankets clumsily for your phone. When the object found it’s way to your hands, you opened it and typed out the quick message on your mind. You didn’t wait for a response this time, instead just letting it send and placing it on the table beside you.

Covering yourself completely, up to your head in the fleece you slept in every night, you hugged your pillow tight and kept the thoughts of your one day house in mind. You shoved the dark and dreary old memories out as best you could, fighting your own intoxicated brain. You let the light of Clarke’s bright blonde hair shine over them, and you let the last sent text message sit on your phone.

  
_**I love you.** _

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe this.”

You laugh. Genuinely, and it fills your stomach. It’s hilarious to watch, and you know no one else would ever get to see a sight like this.

Lexa was brushing her hair. Her mane of wild curls that were relatively controllable when she kept them back in a braid like she does every day. But right now was one of those moments you love. Her struggling with the brush, hair wild and puffy at all sides. Her face contorted in a sort of half disgusted, half frustrated look. Her glasses askew on her nose, and pestering you for laughing at her.

It didn’t matter though, you giggled and you know deep down she loves it, because she loves hearing you laugh. It’s an act you play all the time, teasing on the outside, loving it on the inside. How was she supposed to keep up her serious and take no shit demeanor?

****

The screen lagged slightly and the pixels that made up her face were blurry at times, but you saw the smile on the edge of her lips that told you how much she was loving every minute of it. Except for practically pulling her hair out, but she could compromise.

She finished getting the knots out, and briefly the total puffball of her head made you snicker again. She tied it back, and it was controlled.

“You just like seeing me suffer,” she smirked through the webcam and you shook your head.

“What can I say, it’s like seeing a kitten struggle to take a bath,” she frowned, exaggerated.

“I am not a kitten,” fixing her glasses, she pushed a stray hair behind her ear, “you’re the tiny soft kitten if there ever was one.”

“Whatever nerd,” you looked over at your desk, and saw the pile of homework you still had to do for tomorrow. Shit.

“So how’s Raven doing? Last time I heard, she was trying to get it on with a college boy?” you turned back to the screen.

“Yeah, Wick,” you shrug, thinking of the whole situation, “that’s nothing compared to Octavia though.”

“Oh my god, fill me in immediately.”

****

You explain the story of her new teaching assitant, her being starry eyed and light when talking about him sitting next to her each class, her description of his large physical build being like a supermodel WWE player mix, and her plans for the May wedding.

Lexa listens, and laughs. She hangs on to every word you say, and even though you know she hardly cares about some seventeen year old fawning over her teacher, she loves hearing you talk. She likes listening to your life and what’s important to you.

You think sometimes it’s what keeps her grounded. There isn’t many people in her life over there, except Anya. You think maybe, when she can listen to you talk about things as mundane as your friends’ dating lives, it gives her something to fill that space. She can insert herself in your life like as if she was here.

You wished she was here.

****

You had begun telling her about your Lit assignment, and your newest art project, and your time with Abby in the forest. By the end of the night, Lexa was droopy eyed and blissful. She stared at her screen with such love.

You took in her beauty, her gaze that made you feel like she was there in your bed with you.

But she wasn’t.

****

“You should go to sleep babe, it’s late there.”

Lexa just nodded. She was tired beyond compare at this point, you could tell.

****

“Goodnight princess.”

“Goodnight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

****

She blew a kiss, and ended the call.

The black screen.

You shut your laptop before it could haunt you this time.

****

Placing the computer back on your desk, you see the pile of homework again. You stare briefly, but then you remember the look in Lexa’s eyes and your body feels warm.

You switch your light off and climb into bed. Cold. It was cold and you weren’t sure it was going to get warm.

****

Sometimes when people talk about spending time away from the person they love, they describe how hard it is to sleep alone. That they’ve gotten so used to that person being right next to them, that it becomes unbearable to sleep without them, like they’ve forgotten how to do it.

You have never fallen asleep next to someone. Not like that at least, not with the person you love. You’ve fallen asleep while she is on the Skype screen beside your head, watching you drift off. But her body has never been there. Keeping you warm, and holding you tight.

You aren’t sure how, but you know what they’re talking about. The lovers spending nights away from their partners. The emptiness.

You’ve never even slept next to her, but you know how they feel.

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed this. tried to focus on them as individuals in the relationship, next part will get more into them together in the relationship.
> 
> join me over at my personal hell demi-grrrl.tumblr.com


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